Supernatural May Cry
by Nerk123
Summary: Sam and Dean investigate a ghost ship and make themselves a powerful ally while they're at it, Dante is on the case as well.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own supernatural or Devil may cry.

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"Sammy!" Dean called as he pushed open the door to their room. His arms filled with groceries, well a six-pack and some beef jerky Dean closed the door with his right foot. "Found anything on that computer of yours?"

Sam looked from his place the table. His face shone in the artificial light of his laptop, "Uh, yeah. At least three ships have crashed along the coastline, each about sixty years apart."

Dean ripped some jerky off of the strip and opened one of the beers, then another and handed it to Sam. "Like the _Dumair. _No crew?" Sam nodded, "We'll check out the crash site tonight. Maybe we'll find out where the crew disappeared to."

"Alright." Sam said. He shut down his laptop. Soon enough a charger was charging down the streets of Prize Island.

Sam didn't speak during the trip over the cliff face. Dean contended that it must have been their father's death. It still bugged both of them. They were both past grieving and understood what had happened. But the demon, not enough questions answered for either of them.

"So Sammy. Anything from Bobby?" Dean asked, striking up conversation. Sam gave a gruff reply that Dean took as a negative, or Bobby didn't know anything about their current case.

The case was of a wreaked ship. The thing hit the rocks early that morning and investigators ran to the scene. It was a transport ferry, taking people from East Manhattan to Prize Island. A small still semi-rural town resided on the island, along with a fishing port on the other side. Tourism boomed here during Christmas and during the fishing seasons.

Rescuers found two people on the boat, both unconscious and neither remembered hitting anything, but they were still groggy and one was concussed. No one else was found, nor any bodies. One was a crewmember and the other a passenger. Dean found their names and the brother's surmised to question them after a look around on the vessel.

The ship was stationed at the bottom of the cliff face against the high rocks. Dean and Sam would have to climb down. Neither was too eager for that.

The ferry seemed normal enough from the outside, at least from the distance they were at. After forty minutes Sam and Dean stood on the deck of the abandoned ship. It was dead silent. No birds, no animals, not even a wave. Except Sam's voice, "What do you think did this?"

Dean did a quick once over of the deck, "I don't know, but let's not run right into it shall we?" There were footsteps and Dean spun around, Sam stood behind him, a step forward, "Jesus Sam."

"Sorry."

The brothers covered the open area, keeping within earshot but not exactly close. Meeting on the other end of the ship they found little on the deck, "Damned ghost ship." Dean muttered.

Sam nodded, "Looks like we're going inside." Moving to one of the public doors Dean tried to open it, but it was locked. Lights were on within but neither sibling saw any people. Nodding Sam came forward and dropped to one knee, picking the lock. A minute later they were in the vessel.

Dean heard voices coming from the direction of the nearest level. "How many floors this thing have?"

"Four. Five if you include the deck. Two passenger, one for vehicles and the last for mechanical parts."

Dean didn't like the sound of so much open space. Suddenly a face appeared by one of the doors, "Who the hell are you?" The middle aged man hollered.

Dean and Sam froze, "Couple of investigators," Dean began, "I'm agent Bonham, this is agent…Plant." The man nodded and disappeared back into the lit area. Descending the rest of the stairs the brothers entered the only lit area.

Three men sat in various positions around the naturally lit room. "A fire?" Sam asked.

The man nodded, "All the lights are out. Even our flashlights didn't last long. Whatever's here seems to be sucking the electricity dry."

"Whatever?" Dean feigned.

"Well you're here for the paranormal aren't you? Names Bruce. This here's Vincent." The man extended his arm to a lanky man looking out the ferry into the darkness, a gaunt face visible in the mirror. 'Boy over there is Nero." He pointed to a young man sitting cross-legged by the fire, a revolver sticking out of the back of his pants and a sword sitting across his knees.

"Nero?" Sam exclaimed.

The boy cocked his head and muttered, "Some of us don't like using our real names." Nero put his sword gently into the ground and used it as a crutch to get up. Dean knew of an old legend. About a silver haired warrior, some Hunters dyed their hair in imitation. "You Hunters too? Outside of our little ensemble here I haven't met any others." He extended his hand.

Dean took it, then Sam, "Dean, this here's my brother Sammy. Know what we're dealing with here?"

Bruce shook his shaven head, "No idea. There's another guy combing the ship. He's not with us and we don't know him. Seen him only a couple times, ask me he's trying to avoid us. Hey you by any chance the Winchester boys. Sorry to hear about John."

Sam's eyes darkened, "You knew him?"

"Only by reputation. Damn fine Hunter." Vincent said, his face never leaving the window. Then he turned back against it and smiled, "There's nothing outside the ship."

A massive boom sent everyone sprawling for cover. Dean and Nero were the first to their feet, gun and revolver in hand. They rushed to the window, which was no longer there. Neither was Vincent. Dean stuck his head outside and saw a shape sulk between the rocks, "Vince!" Nero cried out, but no reply came. With a sigh Nero brought his head back from the outside and slowly walked backwards from the open gateway until he was sure he was out of arms reach from… whatever.

"What the hell was that?" Dean demanded. No one had a reply for him. Sam eyed the darkness in the doorway and thought he saw a shape. But he knew it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

Sam shook his head, shaking his uneasiness and proposed what he thought to the group, "I think we're looking at more than one kind of demon. Corporeal demons can't suck electricity that I know of and incorporeal demons couldn't have taken Vincent like that."

"So two demons?" Dean questioned skeptically. Usually demons didn't work together. And if they did that brought about a whole slew of new questions, none of which could possibly have good answers. This case was getting better by the minute. "Maybe more?" With a crackle the lights on the ferry turned on. Then flickered, and the group stood once more in the light of just the fire. "Well that was weird." Dean muttered.

Nero was on his feet his revolvers spinning wildly, "Everyone get down." He whispered so loudly the dead could hear. With startled looks, or amused looks everyone ignored young Nero. Until he fired. The resounding boom shook the room and a scream was heard. Definitely not a human one either. Two more bangs and Nero stopped. The lights returned, "I think it's gone."

"What was? There was something here?" Sam questioned.

"A Shadow. Shapeless manifest spirits. The lights never turned back off. It's not dead, but it's injured. Or at least it will be before it heals." Nero explained, expressing knowledge beyond his youthful façade. Neither Winchester had heard of a shadow. If they had their father's journal with them they could've consulted it. But they left it at the hotel.

Looking at his watch Sam said, "Two hours till daylight."

Dean nodded, "The police will be here in the morning, we should go, preferably before they come."

Bruce was staring at the doorway down, "I hear footsteps."

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	2. Chapter 2

I down own Devil May cry or Supernatural.

This chapter takes place simultaneously with the previous chapter.

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Dante was unhappy. The phone hadn't rung in a week. The rent was overdue. His problems kept piling up. And on top of it, he worked pro bono the night before and the damned poltergeist had sent a knife through his chest, ruining his second best shirt. It didn't know what it was dealing with.

Dante kept his face stoic, but allowed his mind to survey his life. He was old, mid-thirties now, but his other half should be leveling that off soon enough, at least the occult books said so. He lived in what he called luxurious squalor. His apartment building, which he remodeled into an office, was full of unique, demonic, or just plain expensive products. Each one he didn't need, except maybe the pool table. Nonetheless he bought them, and they got dirty, and he never cleaned. Thus he lived an expensive, and disgustingly unclean lifestyle. If not for his heritage, he knew he'd have some sort of disease.

The things he needed he kept close, his sword leaning against the desk beside him. Shining in practically non-existent light Rebellion was one of his prized possessions. He kept him clean, sharp and lethal. On the table beside his legs lay his two customized Colt pistols, nicknamed Ebony and Ivory. His life was unpredictable, dirty and extremely dangerous. Just the way he liked it.

He was a devil hunter. Or just a Hunter, as they liked to be called now. Few of them had actually seen a demon, even less had exorcized one and none but him and a few others, nearly all of them Dante trained, had actually killed one. Hunters had even gone so far as to say that Dante had pioneered the modern version of the profession. He hadn't and he knew it. But the praise was enough to make his keep his trap shut, and to have a reputation like that, especially for creatures that heard, was uniquely advantageous. Not that he needed an advantage.

Then he saw the newspaper.

A ghost ship. Crashed against the rocks of Prize Island, about two hours from his office. No crew, save two. He liked it; sounded paranormal. But he couldn't work pro bono right now. The phone, dusty from little use rang on its holder. Dante hid his excitement as he kicked his desk, sending the phone into the air. With an outstretched hand he caught it and pulled it to his ear. Devil May Cry. He announced over the line.

Tony, its Rivers. Seen the paper today? Came the reply. Trenton Rivers. NYPD Detective Unit. Dante's connection to the police force in New York and a former partner turned cop. Mercenaries were illegal in America. But Dante wasn't a mercenary, just a guy who knew a thing or two about inexplicable cases. They called him in whenever they needed him. A homicide that could be a ghost. Whatever the problem, the NYPD had Dante for it, hence them looking the other way when Dante's taxes didn't come in.

Yeah. Ghost ship eh? Want me to check it out? Dante questioned.

Rivers didn't reply for a moment. Dante almost thought he hung up, look Tony. We think something real bad happened. I know how you get on a job like this, but be careful this time. There was something kept out of the paper.

What was it?

It said we didn't find any bodies. That's true, we found pieces. No organs, just fingers stuff like that. No blood. We have a theory something ate those people Tony. You got to stop whatever it was from getting loose into New York's

Fine. I'll be back by dawn, and you're buying me a drink. Dante said forcefully.

All right. Rivers said and hung up, sealing the deal with a golden beverage. Dante spun in his chair and stood up. Reaching over the dusty desk he snatched his pistols from their place and put them into their holsters behind his back. He grabbed rebellion and slung it mysteriously onto his back. With nothing to hold it in place rebellion sat suspended in air on Dante's back for little reason other than that Dante willed it.

Dante opened his door slowly and closed it even slower, hoping to something that it wouldn't fall off its hinges. It didn't and Dante almost leapt in joy if not for his unforgiving cool factor. His red (it was his colour) motorcycle sat just outside the door on the street, waiting eagerly. With a couple revs Dante sped off into the evening sun through the busy streets of New York.

The ship was on Prize Island, a smaller landmass outside of the New York area, mostly fishermen and tourists. On the way he passed a large truck, three men inside. They were either hunters, or they just didn't get much sleep. Forty minutes later he was on the ferry and in another twenty he was on the Island.

He took a deep breath, the ferry had been stuffy and his heightened senses made the hulking behemoth almost unbearable. Dante didn't talk to anyone, he simply drove and somehow he found the ship almost half sunk and crushed against the rocks. The power was out.

No it wasn't. Dante sensed them, two of them. Plasmas had a tendency to suck electricity out of anything near them, even static in the air. One was enough, but two would be an annoyance. And Plasmas didn't eat people; they fried them. That meant there was more on that ship. Dante was more than equipped to handle this job.

Hearing a truck in the distance Dante took decisive action and leapt off of the cliff. He landed softly sixty meters below on the deck. Brushing himself off, more for show than function, Dante adjusted his clothes and weaponry that had been jumbled up by the fall. He immediately sensed several things moving about the ship, more than two. Dante was right. He barely felt it, but something was on the deck watching him.

Customized pistols glistening in the moonlight Dante twirled in a circle, scanning the area with superhuman efficiency. Nothing was there. Except shadows. Either the thing wasn't moving or it had run off when it saw his hair, his coat and his pistols. It would know what he was.

He heard the truck pull up by the cliff and watched as three men began rappelling down, oblivious to the veteran. Dante remained in the shadows, his silver hair disappearing easily with the rest of him. He watched them for their own safety. The thing, most likely either a Blade or Shadow, might still be around.

Dante hadn't encountered either since Mallet Island. They were major demons, couldn't be exorcized, had to be killed. Usually killed however summoned them. Blades were almost immune to holy water, unless it got in their eyes or an already open wound and Shadows only a bit more vulnerable. These three, except maybe the boy, who obviously did his homework and got himself a sword, probably wouldn't survive the night.

As the three landed rather noisily onto the deck Dante moved to the door downstairs. They caught only a glimpse of the devil hunter as he closed the door.

No lights, well there were, but no electricity lighting them. There was nothing nearby. Dante kept moving. For a big man with a red coat and silver hair Dante was light on his feet, made no noise and for the most part, invisible. Dante moved with a vengeance, strutting through the already decaying passenger deck. He swept the place twice. Then he made a fire by the doorway. He heard the door upstairs unlock and open. "Good job." He muttered and walked into the hall. With a sigh he watched the Hunters in silence. They didn't move, waiting for Dante to do something. Dante walked down to the second passenger deck, leaving them to fend for themselves. Hopefully they'd stay there.

Dante reached the vehicle deck quickly, bypassing the second passenger deck with little more than a look inside. The place had been swept clean by emergency crews and few cars were left. There had been little in way of passengers anyhow and many tended to be walk-ons. Nonetheless Dante watched as the paint crumbled from moistened walls. Dante was able to see everything clearly. There was enough pale moonlight to allow just that, and even without it Dante's conventional senses were heightened to the point that he barely knew what darkness was. Dante heard a crash, then several gunshots rung out from the ships upper deck. "Perhaps they won't survive after all?" Dante mused aloud.

Thankfully Dante's musing had caught the attention of two bats. Larger than any bat Dante had ever seen Dante immediately drew Ivory in one hand and placed his left on Rebellion's hilt. Lightning sparkled outside, sending Dante into daylight for a second. Then the lightning arched, hitting the bats in their chests. Rather than frying, as they should, the bats grew and sparked with energy. Then the bat's let go of their plumbing perches and hit the ground in a thud that belied more weight than the eyes could see. Then they grew, standing upright like humanoids. More specifically they appeared to take Dante's appearance, though still in the impersonal being of electricity that they were.

Dante was bored. Two Plasma's were, well a slight problem. These were the first two demons he had seen in New York in over a year. But the open space of the deck gave him the advantage. Dante was fast. Faster than a large percentage of demons and he relied on this aspect of his nature more than he liked to admit. Dante put Ivory in its holster and put Rebellion in front of him in a basic stance.

The Plasma's watched him warily. They did not know who he was. Few Demon Lords admitted that the Sparda lineage still existed and most did not know at all. Mundus kept it a secret. For others to know Mundus could be defeated would have been his downfall long before Dante came along. Without a second though Dante charged forward with blistering speed.

One Plasma jumped to the side. The other stood his ground. Dante thrust Rebellion straight in a stab but the Plasma lurched back and sent it's own immaterial, electric blade clashing into the side of rebellion, sending it, and Dante, off target. The Plasma counterattacked with a wide arc from its backhand. A bad move to play against Dante. With untold amounts of experience Dante parried the blow and moved Rebellion along the Plasma's sword easily and slit it's throat. The thing groaned and swung its sword lazily over its head downwards.

Dante jumped backwards and was suspended in the air for a brief second. Then he appeared to phase out of reality. He reappeared next to the second waiting Plasma and plunged Rebellion through its torso, then fired two bullets, one into each imaginary eye. The Plasma erupted in lighting and was no more. Dante rolled out of the way of the blast and rose to his feet, guns bared at the first Plasma. It's death cries were not heard over the staccato singing of Ebony and Ivory.

The lights turned back on. Dante's head spun as he watched one of the shadows near the stairwell disappear with the rest, but this time so unnaturally that it caught his eye. "A Shadow." He murmured to himself, "This'll be a fun night." He began walking up the stairs after it. Stalking his prey.

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	3. Chapter 3

I don't own Devil May Cry or Supernatural.

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"You hear what now?" Dean exclaimed.

"Someone's coming up here." Bruce said, his head turning back slightly. Stepping away from the door he drew his pistol from behind him and aimed at the open entranceway, trigger finger ready.

A dark shape moved, and Bruce's pistol was on the floor. It took everyone a couple of seconds to realized Bruce was down too. Before the group stood a tall white haired man. Wearing a red coat no less, and armed like he was some sort of modern knight. Sword on his back, and a pitch-black pistol aimed straight at Dean's head.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." The man said, a sneer broadening across his lips. "Shouldn't be here." His leather squeaked sharply in the silence as he walked mockingly to his left. "Ambulances can't really get down here." He finished.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean grumbled, eyes not leaving the man's enormous pistol, which was still trained on him. The man ignored him and peered out the broken window.

"What happened here?" The newcomer asked. Sauntering with an air about him the white haired hell raiser stuck his head out the hollowed window. Then his eyes sharpened, like he had seen something. Then he blinked and backed off. "Sun'll be up soon. Morning cops with it. I'm guessing none of you should be here anyhow. Best be gone." The man strutted purposefully towards the entranceway, stopping only momentarily to give a small piece of paper to Dean. And a short quip, "Kid, change the hair. I don't like imitators." Then he was gone.

Dean stumbled for a second before asking no one in particular, "Whom? What? Oh never mind. Sam, we're checking downstairs."

"No way Dean." Sam answered immediately. "That guy was right, cop's will be here soon. Your still wanted remember?"

"Oh yeah. Bruce, here." Dean said, and gave Bruce a slip of paper. "It's got my number on the back. Call if you need any help."

Within half an hour the group had bade their farewells and Dean and Sam were back in their Impala, returning on the morning ferry to NYC. Both wondered who their white haired companion was and what the hell 'Devil Never Cry' was.

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Dante picked up the phone as soon as he entered his flat. "Rivers. It's Tony."

"Tony! You're alive!" Rivers exclaimed, sending crackling through the line.

Dante rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah, I'll have to go back tomorrow. Seems there's more than I thought. No problem though."

"You sure?" Rivers asked.

"Trust me. Listen I've got to go get at least some sleep."

Rivers hung up unceremoniously. Dante grumbled and fell face first onto his couch. Snoring pompously Dante fell asleep not bothering to lock his door, nobody in the neighborhood would mess with him.

The day passed quickly, as time usually does when one is sleeping soundly. As darkness set in Dante rose from his place on the couch. He rubbed his sore neck and grumbled as he sauntered towards his small kitchen, where his prized possession lay. The fridge.

Grabbing an old pizza box he threw it into the microwave, then set the coffee maker. Without a sound he gracefully fell into his usually place behind his desk. Once he was full he'd set out back to the ship. Take out that Shadow before it killed any of the late night cops onboard.

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Sam and Dean were having a difficult time trying to find what Devil Never cry was, or anything about it for that matter. There was nothing on the Internet. Nothing in the phone book either. And the number on the card was disconnected. With nothing to go on Sam was futilely trying to find anything about occurrences in New York related to a red coat wearing, white haired man.

The bar they were in was nothing to be proud of, but this 'Love Planet' seemed to be the highlight of the surrounding blocks. Of course Dean was having the time of his life. He was supposed to be 'asking the locals' which Sam was sure didn't mean chat up the pretty blonde woman in the bunny outfit.

Anything yet?" Dean asked, suddenly beside his brother.

"Nothing." Sam replied.

"Well I found a person who can tell us." Dean smirked mischief.

"You did?"

"Seems the guy comes in here all the time. Supposed to be short, fat and Italian. Enzo something."

"Like him?" Sam pointed towards a short, fat and definitely Italian man sipping a beer in a corner booth with two girls on either side of him. "Seems he does well for himself." Sam closed his laptop and rose to his feet. With Dean by his side they walked over towards the man's little booth, careful not to disturb any of the burly and aggressive looking patrons.

"You Enzo?" Dean asked impolitely.

"Yeah, what can I do you boys for?" The man replied, smiling in an obliging sort of way.

"We're looking for a guy. Has a place called Devil Never Cry." Dean said.

"You looking for Dante? You boys don't look like hit men. Or hunter's for that matter." Enzo remarked. "He lives just down the street. I'm warning you though, only a fool messes with Dante."

Dean turned on his heels and headed for the door. Sam nodded to Enzo and gave his thanks, then followed his kin out the door into the no less seedy alleyway where the 'Love Planet' was located. Night was almost falling and Dean and Sam quickened their pace until a blood-red neon sign displayed itself in front of them. Slowing down Dean appeared almost scared to enter.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked his brother, sensing his unease.

Dean sighed, "Dante, the Legendary Devil Hunter. Dad used to talk about him when we were young. I never knew what he looked like."

"Dad knew this guy?" Sam exclaimed. "Who the hell is he?"

"Enzo was right. We shouldn't be messing with this guy. Should just stay out of his way." Dean explained, "I'm not sure how well Dad knew Dante, but enough to never talk to him after the first time. He said earlier that this guy beat down the Emperor of Hell."

"So this guy won't be happy to see us?" Sam asked, getting worried.

"I doubt he knows who we are." Dean said. "C'mon, let's go back to the ship. We can find out what's going on there and just get the hell out of New York"

"No way. We've come all this way." Sam brought, "Might as well."

Before Dean could stop his brother Sam was already at the door. Not bothering to knock Sam entered, followed quickly by a gun toting Dean at the ready.

The room they entered wasn't well lit, but they could make out demon heads on the walls, each with some sort of weapon sticking in them. Dante's prizes, he really was a hunter. Sam stopped by a head of a wendigo, remembering his own experience with one of those creatures. The pair were so enamored by the selection of severed head's that they didn't notice the white haired man sitting at his desk, looking at the brothers through blood shot eyes.

"You boys looking for something?" Dante almost yelled suddenly. Both Sam and Dean jumped, causing the man to be startled in return. "Shit. Didn't I tell you two to go away?"

"Well yeah…" Dean began, "Oh hey, pizza."

The owner smirked, "Look, I've got no problem with up and coming Hunters. But this is my turf and my case."

Sam moved his head about rapidly, "We could help, work together. You worked with our father before."

"You're pops?" Dante asked, surprised, "Just who are you two?"

"I'm Sam Winchester." Sam announced, "This is my brother, Dean." Dean nodded and swiped a piece of pizza from the box on Dante's desk.

"Winchesters. I didn't know John had any kids. But then again we didn't really stay in touch after he tried to kill me." Dante explained.

"He tried to kill you? Why?" Sam pondered eagerly.

"Story for another time maybe." Dante said offhandedly. "I'll deal with the ghost ship tonight but there is a vampire in the area. Take him out and I'll tell you the story. I'll even pay you too."

"From what we hear a vampire is a easy target for you." Dean said.

"He would be, but he moves around a lot. Right now I know where he is but he'll be gone by tomorrow night. Just go to this address and deal with him. I'll go to the ship and deal with the demons there. I'll see you back here in the morning?"

"Fine." Dean said abruptly. He took his brothers arm and wrestled him out of Dante's shop. "We're getting out of this town Sam."

"What?" Sam asked, bewildered.

"This guy is trouble. That's what Dad always said. We shouldn't be around him."

"Let's at least take out the vampire." Sam pleaded, "It's killing people and Dante doesn't seem concerned at all about it."

"Alright, we get rid of the vamp and then we get the hell out of town."

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Dante had an uneasy feeling as he entered the passenger deck of the ghost ship. Like something had changed. Or something new was there. His senses weren't usually wrong.

He slid up against one of the walls and crept his way towards a darkened hallway. Then for an instant the hallway became pitch-black, then back again. The Shadow was still roaming the ship. Dante cocked Ebony and Ivory. He shoved two buckshot's into his shotgun and spun around the corner into the hallway arm outstretched. His shotgun didn't waver as Dante blasted into the unnatural thickness.

The thing screeched and curled away. Spinning it jumped into the air. With a split second to spare Dante dove back through the doorway as the Shadow lashed out at him. Firing blindly at the door Dante slid along the ground of the passenger hall. He continued firing his customized pistols, using their force to push himself farther back.

Sensing the wall behind him Dante spun like a break-dancer and kicked off the wall. Dante flew back towards the Shadow. He fired Ebony in one hand and placed his hand on Rebellion with his other. Without a second thought Dante lashed out with Rebellion just as the Shadow appeared to melt away, revealing a red sphere with power sigils and runes floating around it.

"Sweet dreams!" Dante roared as Rebellion pierced the sphere. It took almost a second for the thing to shatter completely and the Shadow to be banished back to the Underworld.

Then there was clapping. Then laughing and Dante spun in its direction. A relatively human man leaned against the wall watching the show. Dante sighed and murmured, "Demon."

The man nodded and pushed against the wall, standing straight. His eyes began to shine a horrendous yellow color.

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	4. Chapter 4

I don't own Devil May Cry or Supernatural

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"Dean. There's nothing here!" Sam called down from the rooftop to where Dean stood next to the Impala, shotgun in hand.

"There's got to be something in there! We're at the right place!" Dean yelled back.

Sam shrugged and disappeared for a moment before returning, "Maybe he's moved on. Dante did say this vampire liked to move a lot."

The apartment complex Dante had told the brothers about housed no vampire. Only a few squatters and all of them were either too drunk or strung out to yield any information. This vampire had moved on, probably fearing Dante's retribution. Being famous had its disadvantages.

Sam soon came out of the front door and made his way to Dean and the Impala. "Let's go." He said.

"And just where might that be?" Dean asked.

"We get a hotel, someplace close. Track this thing down the usual way."

"Freeze!" A voice yelled at them down the street. "NYPD!"

"Damn," Dean muttered in frustration.

The man walked cautiously towards the brothers. Dean watched as the man came fully into the light. Dean could have mistaken the man for Dante, had his hair not been jet black and his clothes less ridiculous. By his hid, barely visible in the long raincoat was a shimmering badge. This guy was the real deal.

"You two looking for something here?" The cop questioned, still not lowering his sidearm.

Dean just shrugged. "Just a hotel." Sam provided.

"Hmp. Nothing to do with a vampire does it?" The cop asked, "Dante asked me to go check it out. I thought he might have had cronies."

Sam and Dean both shoved their heads back and forth, "You know Dante?" Dean asked.

"Yes. But we use his alias, Tony when dealing with the rest of the precinct. Dante has a couple of outstanding warrants on his name. Names Trenton Rivers. Detective with the NYPD. You must be the two brother's he talked about on the phone."

"There's no vampire here." Sam pointed out.

"There was. Notice the pile of dust on the second floor." Rivers supplied

"You got him? You don't look like a hunter." Dean said.

"I'm not. But when you work near Dante you need to know how to hold your own against those sort of things." Rivers explained. "We'll head back to Dante's shop together. I have a key."

Sam and Dean nodded, seeing no other option and they weren't about to deck a cop and run for it. The three of them silently entered the impala and Dean began driving back to Dante. The place he very much did not want to go to again.

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"So you must be the handyman who'll take any dirty job."

Dante cocked an eyebrow, "Again? Be a little creative for Christ's sake." Dante's smirked eroded as he found himself against the wall. Not only against it, but stuck to it. And not on the floor either. Looking down he budged his hands a little, "Hmm, now what to do about this?"

The man waved his hand, "So you're him. You're the guy who keeps hunting demons, making this place a safe haven for the humans. You know, everyone back home says you'll be the one to stop us if we ever come back. I don't think so. You see I have this." Dante saw the man wave a revolver in his other hand, "A gun that can kill anything. You, me, the Winchester boys, The Darkness Mundus. One bullet. I think it's for you."

Dante struggled a little. Squirming would be more like it. There was a crash, like glass shattering and Dante slid slowly down the wall until he was back on solid ground, "I don't think so." He said mockingly.

The yellow eyed demon took a step back, "So…" He said slowly, "He really did have a son." Putting his hand to his chin the demon smiled, "I'm no match for you Son of Sparda. Not here anyway." And he was smoke, seeping away.

Dante shrugged and watched as the black mass encompassed the sky before disappearing, "I don't like him." Dante murmured to himself.

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Dante opened the door to his shop and mildly ran his hand through his hair, "Tenton." He exclaimed sarcastically, "I didn't know you made house calls."

"Only for you Dante." Trenton said, "I found these two boy's fishing around an old vampire nest a little ways from here."

"That's because I sent them." Dante explained, "Didn't I tell you we were using my old name Tony. I'm not paying for that damn insurance fraud."

"If you didn't want to pay maybe you shouldn't have done it." Trenton retorted, "I mean for a guy who makes millions on a single job you sure do seem strapped for cash a lot."

"You remember the pretty brunette. Most of it goes to her." Dante stated.

Trenton snorted.

Dean and Sam watched the two curiously. "So…" Dean smiled sweetly, "What's next?"

"You leave." Dante answered, "No buts. I met a guy on the ship and he's looking for you two. I'm suggesting you get the hell out of here."

Sam and dean shared a look, "Did he have yellow eyes?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." Dante replied, "I didn't particularly like him. But you two are gone in the morning. Got it?" The tone of Dante's voice cut through their rebuttals quickly. With a sigh Dante sauntered over towards two parallel steel spokes sticking out of the wall. Hefting Rebellion with one hand he place the great sword on it's resting place and took his usual seat, "But I did tell you I'd tell the story about me and your dad, didn't I? Well better take a seat."

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There was a knock on Dante's door. Rather than attempt to even get up Dante allowed whoever was outside the pleasure of letting themselves in. The man was stocky, but couldn't quite be called short, with a ragged beard and sleepless eyes.

"Are you Tony?" The man asked, his eyes taking in all of Dante's treasures. Dante nodded, all the while clicking Ivory's safety off behind his back.

"What's it to you?" Dante smirked. His boyish grin and charm had a way with women, and even demons' but never had a man smiled at him so.

"I heard from my friend Bobby that you were new in town and looking for something…supernatural." The man said. The man walked to the left side of Dante's shop and looked up at the body of a changeling with a knife through it's throat, "but I see you've already found out what goes bump in the night."

"I have." Dante replied simply, eying the man curiously, he acted far too much like Arkham for Dante's taste.

"This is still alive." The man said, pointing at the changeling and looking at Dante.

"_I know." Dante said. "It's suffering for what it did."_

"_And then?" The man asked, frowning strangely._

Dante shrugged, "Take it out back and torch it I guess. Look, are you here for something?"

"Oh right." The man said, "I'm John Winchester. Since you're new, I thought I'd come and show you the ropes. We have a thing around here. We try to stick together and help each other out."

"I prefer to work alone." Dante said, "But if you've got a job then I won't refuse."

"Good." John smiled, "You know the park? It's about twenty blocks north of here." Dante nodded, "Well there's a wendigo there. We have no idea how it got inside the city and we know it has taken at least three people. I want your help hunting it."

Dante sighed. Wendigo's weren't the toughest marks in the world, but one mistake and you might just end up with a hole in your torso, Dante knew from experience. Dante lifted himself slowly from his chair and grabbed his coat. Donning his weaponry he nodded, "Alright, I need some exercise." 

Dante's motorcycle roared to life and Dante sped off in pursuit of an old Chevrolet. John hadn't asked about Rebellion, which was odd, considered the sword was about the same size as Dante himself and evidently heavy. In fact, after Dante had agreed to the job John hadn't really said a word. Dante felt uneasy, like John knew what he was. But Hunters had that effect on him sometimes, if they ever did find out Dante had no idea how they'd react. Hopefully he'd never have to come clean.

Stopping so quickly his tail end left the ground Dante readjusted himself as he leapt from his bike. John was waiting, leaning against his trunk. Dante sniffed the cold city air. It was too polluted near the road to tell him anything about a wendigo in the park.

"Are you ready?" John asked as Dante approached, "It'll be a pretty tough hunt."

"No problem," Dante smirked, "Lead the way."

And so Dante followed John into the underbrush. The air became cleaner, easier for Dante to track. Dante watched John's back and saw sweat bead down the back of his neck. Dante sniffed the air again and saw John turn to Dante. There was no Wendigo.

"So, I didn't think this would be so easy." John said as four other Hunter's rose from the bushes around them. A black man, a bearded man with a trucker hat, a young man and a young woman all raised handguns, each one trained on Dante. "For a demon you're not very smart."

"So I guess even demons have heard of the legend." The black man said, looking at Dante's hair.

"Hush Gordon." The woman said, "No need for that." They circled him. Dante watched each of them individually. Then his eyes turned to the ground where huge pentagram was carved into the dirt.

"Awh, c'mon Ellen." Gordon snickered, "he's trapped. What's he going to do?"

Dante smirked, "Your talking about Sparda." Dante laughed, "It's no legend. He existed."

The black man laughed, "And how do you demons feel about being taken out by a single guy? I bet you embarrassed yourselves right back to Hell."

"That's enough Gordon." The bearded man said gruffly. His eyes belied experience that none of the others possessed. His gun still twitched in his hands.

"You don't know?" Dante remarked coldly, "You honestly don't know Sparda wasn't human?"

"Not human…" John whispered.

Dante sped forward in a blur of red. Grabbing the bearded man's handgun Dante wretched it sideways. Before the others could blink Gordon was on the floor. Then Ellen. Dante stood tall, watching as the Hunters collected themselves, but John had nothing to collect. A single gunshot, but Dante was already gone.

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"So they thought you were a demon?" Sam asked suspiciously, "But that doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah well," Dante said slowly, "I always thought beard-boy kind of knew. He seemed to be a whole hell of a lot less new than your father. All of them for that matter."

Dean cocked an eyebrow; "Bobby usually doesn't get things wrong."

"It was years ago." Dante answered, "But like I said. You two should get the hell out of here pretty damn quick. And no staying here tonight."

Several hours later Dante was still lounging on his favorite chair. Trenton tried to keep himself awake on the couch and was having an awfully tough time doing so. "You got them the hell out of here right fast." Trenton remarked.

"That yellow-eyed demon was no joke" Dante answered, "Those two are in serious shit. He had the Colt."

"The Colt?" Trenton asked, his voice raising somewhat, "The one Samuel Colt made for your father?"

"Yeah. I hadn't seen it in years, not since he…yeah." Dante looked at his feet intently.

"His choice bud." Trenton reasoned calmly, "You're father was a helluva man, demon or not. All you really need to know about him right there, all your mother really cared about too."

Dante stared at her portrait on his desk. Long blonde hair cascading past slim shoulders that were draped in red and black. He shook his head for a moment, "You want to go kill something?"

Trenton looked at him and smiled, demonic teeth protruding past his bottom lip, "Oh yes."

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**Yeah, sorry this took so long to come out. Frankly I didn't really know how to go about the yellow eyed demons' and Dante's encounter and I rewrote it about a thousand times until I think I got a halfway decent one that got everything I wanted to get into it. **

**I will try to continue with this story as best and as fast as I possibly can.**


	5. Chapter 5

I don't own Devil May Cry or Supernatural.

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**One year later.**

Dante watched the night sky as Trenton pulled over and turned his cruiser off. Before he had closed the door he had already asked, "What the hell is that?"

Dante shrugged, "Some sort of demon gate. Somewhere in The South I think."

Trenton watched as a black mass rose into the sky, "That's a lot of demons."

Dante nodded.

"We going to do something about it?"

Dante shrugged again, "I guess, eventually. Is this anything like the first time?"

"No. Not really. These aren't real physical demons, most of them anyways. They'll possess people. They have to in order to do anything here. Not like us." 

"I see." Dante said absently. "More humans in the crossfire?"

"Aren't they always." Trenton remarked, "I remember a time you're father and I destroyed an entire nest of demons, only to have the humans turn on us once they found out."

"You sure like to reminisce."

"Help the father, help the son. I guess" Trenton smiled, "Now would you look at that. One's coming right for us."

And indeed one was. A black mass of whisper line smoke, almost more like a fog than anything else. As Dante and Trenton saw the mass swirl in the middle of the intersection right outside Devil Never Cry they saw a vague, silhouetted form of a man emerge. His long, blue velvet coat swept around his blue encased legs and with hair slicked back the mass turned into the spitting image of Dante.

"It has been a long time brother." The man said calmly, but there was a click and Dante saw steel, Yamato. "And Master Longhorn. Mundus was looking for you."

Trenton chuckled, "I'm sure he was. He's not much for traitors is he? So, been a good little boy Vergil?"

Vergil stiffened slightly and his eyes narrowed, "Mundus' control over me was gone the same moment he lost power over everything he once ruled. Thanks to you of course Dante."

"What are you doing here Vergil?" Dante asked softly. He would not fight his brother again.

"The denizens of Hell don't take too kindly to the Sons of Sparda, even when I was under Mundus. I saw the portal open, and I took the chance."

"And you just happened to appear at my doorstep?" Dante said.

"Oh no. I planned that. You see brother I'm wondering if you need a partner to share in your business."

"What?" Both Trenton and Dante exclaimed at the same time.

"My time in the Underworld has taught me a few things. One of them being, well, I don't really like it there brother." Vergil said casually, "And things…happened. And vengeance seems to be my only option."

"So, our past, we're just going to forget about it." Dante smirked suddenly, "This hardly seems like you Vergil."

"It was another thing I learned in Hell." Vergil answered, "Family is family. I believe it is about time the Sparda bloodline did what it was meant to do. Together."

Dante positively beamed. Trenton looked suspiciously for a moment at Vergil before breaking into his own grin. Even Vergil mouth twitched a little.

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Nero was losing. But then again he had never actually won a game of pool against Bruce. Only having one working arm didn't help either.

Either way Bruce's dingy flat was as unappealing as ever, despite their recent surplus of business. Bruce had a tendency to give jobs to other hunters, ones that needed the experience. Sometimes one of them went to help, but that was only for the big stuff. As it were, they had somewhat become trainers.

"Now would you look at that." Bruce drawled purposefully. His eyes trained on an image of blackness that hovered in the air in the far off distance.

"What is it?" Nero asked, taking Bruce's distraction as a perfect time to cheat a little.

"I don't really know." Bruce sighed briefly, "Doesn't look like it's a good thing though."

There was a long silence between them, broken momentarily by ball hitting ball. The clank seemed to resonate around the room and stay far past it's welcome. Nero stood up from his shot and adjusted his cast, "Think we should call Tony?" Nero wondered aloud.

"Nah," Bruce answered anyway, "He's probably already on his way there."

Nero shrugged his good shoulder and winced in pain, "I really hate this cast." He muttered.

"Then you shouldn't have leapt off a building and used your arm to break your fall." Bruce said sardonically.

"I was pushed man," Nero protested, "That bitch was strong."

"You had that Blue Rose of yours."

"Yeah well it didn't really occur to me to use it!" Nero exclaimed.

"Sometimes I wonder how you haven't gotten us killed." Bruce smiled sarcastically and the two burst out laughing.

Nero watched thoughtfully out the window as several shadowy masses run about New York City. One dove into the streets close to Bruce and Nero, maybe five minutes of driving on uncrowded streets. "There's one now." Nero pointed in the direction of said demon.

"I saw it." Bruce muttered, "Grab your stuff."

Ten minutes later Bruce was waiting in his dark green Ford truck for Nero. Finally he saw Nero emerge from the lighted stairwell and walk towards their truck. Nero had his single sided blade slug over his shoulder and his Blue Rose in his left hand. Placing his sword carefully in the back of the truck Nero entered the passenger side and buckled himself in.

"You look like you just came out of the hairdressers." Bruce assured Nero.

"Good." Nero said brightly, "Just because we kill things for a living doesn't mean we have to look terrible." Nero eyed Bruce and snickered.

"Ah shut it kid." Bruce said absently as he ignited the roaring, well sputtering was more like it, engine. "You sound too much like Tony for your own good."

"The guy is good. It's worth it to try and emulate him." Nero said. "Holy crap!"

"We haven't even gotten out of the parking lot yet." Bruce said, bored, "What did you forget?"

Nero pointed to the exit. Bruce saw five men blocking their path, each one well within the realm of badass. They all had pitch black eyes.

"Oh bugger." Bruce muttered, turning off his truck not far from where the five men waited. Grabbing a small shotgun from a rack behind his head Bruce stepped out of his truck and pointed it at them menacingly.

Nero grabbed Blue Rose and trained it on the closest of the five men, who had just begun their approach. Walking backwards slowly Nero reached for his sword in the back of the truck. "You think this is a good thing?" Nero said slowly.

Bruce shrugged, which looked very odd while holding a shotgun, "We'll save gas I suppose, help the environment a little. Hey you boys got here damn fast didn't you!"

"Sparda…" One drawled. Zombie-like in their movements the five possessed men continued towards the pair of demon hunters.

"I think that they think you're some one else." Bruce eyed Nero for a split second.

"Not cool." Nero complained, "This is seriously not cool."

"What do you think we're going to do bud?" Bruce asked, "They're still human somewhere in there."

Nero and Bruce continued backwards and the possessed men followed them obediently. Suddenly they all stopped, as though they had hit an invisible wall. They all looked up.

"That was easy." Nero smirked, "You got the book?"

Bruce laughed, "I know the incantation off by heart."

"You always do love to brag about that." Nero smiled as he stepped back and allowed Bruce to begin.

The five demons watched them with muted whispers as Bruce's voice bent both Latin and magic to his will. Nero cocked his head, looking bemused. The demon's still peered past them, as though they didn't exist. Demons were never put down this easy.

"Sparda…" Another drawled. And they each took a step forward and placed their hands upon the invisible barrier.

"This is bad." Nero said, "They're looking for Sparda?"

"So what?" Bruce broke from his incantation; finally realizing some digging was required.

"Sparda's gone." Nero explained, "Why would they be looking for him if he's been gone for decades?"

"Does it really matter?" Bruce asked matter-of-factly.

"I suppose not."

Bruce resumed his exorcism.

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Dean hovered above his most hated nemesis. Yellow Eyes crackled with power and his body went limp. The glow of his namesake faded from view and ordinary brown took their place.

Sam staggered over and Bobby followed. Each of them watched the sky as black mist scattered in all directions, appearing to have no coordination.

"That's a lot of demons." Dean remarked.

"We'll have some work to do." Bobby said.

"I think we might need help."


End file.
